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YEAR IN AN HOUR ; 



THE COCK OF THE WALK. 
a dforrt. 

IN TWO ACTS. 

PERFORMED AT 

*£j)e ©fceatre &omh ^agmarlten 

Ora Thursday, June V7th, y 1824. 



■.-•■ 



BY JOHN POOLE, ESQ. 

AUTHOR OF "WHO'S WHO? "SIMPSON AND CO.' 

&c. &c. 



LONDON : 



PRINTED FOR JOHN MILLER, 5, NEW BRIDGE STREET, 
BLACKFRIARS, 

1824. 
{Price 2s.) 



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. ; fit 



tHArK'EU- AN!) AhRowaarrtu johnIoNs c 



Ol'KT, 5riyK£tSfEKR* 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



A few weeks prior to the commencement of the present 
Haymarket season, an application was made to me to write 
a farce, in which the principal character should be suited to 
the peculiar and inimitable powers of Mr. Liston. Certain 
reasons, of some importance to the Theatre, rendered its 
immediate production desirable ; and, in consequence, 
A Year in an Hour was written, studied, rehearsed, and 
acted in the short space of one month. At the time I 
undertook the task it was a doubtful point whether any 
other of the London performers than Mr. Liston, would 
be able to assist at the opening of the Theatre ; and igno- 
rant as I was of the powers of the ladies and gentlemen 
who might be called upon to fill the secondary and subor- 
dinate parts, I thought it prudent so to construct my piece 
as to throw the whole weight of it where I was certain it 
could be borne. Had I been previously acquainted with 
the talents of Mrs. C. Jones, Mrs. Windsor, &c. the 
business would have been more equally distributed. This 
is the exact truth ; and sufficient to account for, if not excuse, 
the production of an indifferent farce. Had it been other- 
wise, the thing might have been better worthy of criticism : 
as it is, it merely effects the object intended in its composi- 
tion, which was to afford an opportunity for a laugh to the 
laughter-loving frequenters of the Little Haymarket. 

One trifling incident in the first, and one in the second 
act of A Year in an Hour, are taken from two French 
works. There has been much random guessing as to what 
those works are, and precisely by such persons as are the 
least likely of any to discover. Now as it were a pity, in 
so important a matter as the origin of a farce, that so much 
sensible, well-directed, matter-of-fact curiosity should re- 
main unrewarded, I will lend them a helping hand. I beg 
they will read Les Discussiones Theologiques, avec les Com- 
mentaires des F. F. Dominicains, MS 37 torn, in foL Bib. 
Boy. Par. and the French Philosophical Transactions from 
the year 1682 to 1819 inclusive. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS 



Bobby Buckhorse 

Old Stanley - 

Young Stanley 

Serjeant - 

Villager 

PriscillA Fadefast, (afterwards Mi 

Buckhorse) 
Old Margery 
Mrs. Candy - 

Jenny Styles 
Sally Bloomly 
Mrs. Welford 

Villagers, Messdms. Ebsworth, J. 
• Johnson, W. Fairbrother, 



Mr. Liston. 
Mr. Younger. 
Mr. Johnson. 
Mr. Coveney. 
Mr. C. Jones. 

Mrs. C.Jones. 

Mrs. Windsor. 
Mrs. Coveney. 
Mrs. Hunt. 
Miss J. Scott. 
Miss Wood. 
and M. Ebsworth, 
Bailey, &c. 



Scene during first Ack> at a village near Plymouth ; 
during 1 the Second, at Highgate. 



A 

YEAR IN AN HOUR; 

OR, 

THE COCK OF THE WALK. 



ACT I. 

Scene l.—A Village. — At one side a small Public-house— 
Young Men and Women regaling at different tables. 

Calls of " House — house — Mrs. Candy/' 

Enter Mrs. Candy. 

Mrs. Candy. Here's more cyder— more biscuits for you ; 
and after that a dance on the bowling-green. 

1st Man. That's right Mrs. Candy, we'll be merry 
while we can, for in a few days we're off to Mexico ; but 
we shall soon return with fortunes, and then girls —hey 
for your weddings ! 

Jenny. But is it not very cruel of you to leave us for so 
long ? 

1st Man. Why girls, what would you have us do? 
Fortunes an't made by the fire-side. The " Prosperous," 
bound for Mexico, is in want of hands, we are in want of 
money, so off we go. The captain swears that there the 
streets are paved with gold, mind you that. 

%nd Man. Not only the captain, but the mate swears so 
too ; and they are not men to deceive one. 

1st Man. But I say girls — you'll be true to us while 
we are away — you'll not turn false-hearted. 

Mrs. Candy. False-hearted ! ha ! ha ! ha ! Why they 
coud'n't if even they had a mind to it. You know that 

B 



when you go you don't leave behind you a single unmarried 
man in our little village. False-hearted ! why devil a 
young fellow will there remain to bless one's self by. 

1,92 Man. You forget Bobby Buckhorse. (All the women 
exhibit signs of disgust.) 

Jenny. O the ugly monster ! 

Sally B. I wouldn't marry the ugly brute though he 
brought me mountains of gold. 

3rd Girl. Nor I, though his eyes were diamonds. 

Mrs. Candy. Why even Priscilla Fadefast has refused 
him. 

1st Man. Miss Priscilla had best look sharp though, 
she's no chicken, and at her age there's no time to lose. 

Jenny. Don't scandalize ; I'm sure she's not quite forty. 
Besides she's a lady born, and belongs to a very great 
family : her father was an exciseman, and her aunt is a 
stay-maker in London. 

1 st. Man. Aye, that's why she gives herself such airs, 
and thinks herself too good for any of us. 

Jenny. Then she's always drest in the tip-top of the 
mode. 

Mrs. Candy. No wonder, when her aunt supplies her 
with second-hand finery, and sends her all the spring 
fashions the very winter after they come out in town. No, 
no, she'll never have Mr. Buckhorse : I've heard her say 
so a thousand times, and that she'd rather die a maid. 

Jenny. As she is very like to do, and an old one too 
whenever that happens. So, so, then that is why Mr. 
Bobby has been making love to me, I suppose. 

Sally B. And me. 

3rd Girl. And me. 

Mrs Candy. But you all refused him I'll answer for it. 

%nd Girl. Aye, and sent him off with a flea in his ear, 
you may be sure of that. 

Mrs. Candy. That was right girls. The ugly wretch '. 
for my part, though I have been a widow these five years, 
I'd remain so all my life sooner than marry Bobby Buck- 
horse. 

Jenny. Now somehow I should'nt wonder if Miss Fade- 
fast were to have him after all ; for she is no beauty her- 
self ; she has been hanging on hand these ten years, and 
lias no chance any where else. 

Mrs. Candy. She's going to London to try her chance 
there. 

All. (laugh.) I wish her success. 



Mrs. Candy. As for Bobby, the poor devil is to be pitied. 
He is very gay and good tempered ; thinks of nothing but 
what he calls domestic felicity ; is doatingly fond of chil- 
dren ; and has set his heart on having one of his own. Yet 
who would marry the monster ? 

Jenny. Why, if he waits for a wife and family till I 

Oh ! here he comes. 

Enter Bobby Buckhorse, followed by Margery. 

Bobby. Ah boys ! — Ah my girls ! so you are all here ! 
What ! all the lads and lasses of the village assemble and 
not invite me ! Now once for all tell me why you never 
ask me to join in your parties of pleasure. 

Jen?iy. Because we mean them to be — parties of pleasure. 

Bobby. And that there would be no pleasure in my com- 
pany. Now that's very unkind. But never mind — I'm not 
angry ; I'm the best tempered fellow in all the world, and I 
love every body and every thing in it ; consequently I love 
every girl in the village. And I know you all love me if 
you cared to speak the truth. 

Jenny. Love you indeed ! — You ! 

Bobby, Well never mind, I'm not angry though I know 
what you mean. You think I'm not over and above hand- 
some. But ask old Margery here, who was my nurse. 
She'll tell you a very different story. 

Margery. Ah ! bless it, {takes him by the chin) it was 
the handsomest baby that ever was seen till it caught the 
small-pox. 

Bobby. And I didn't do that on purpose, I promise you. 

Jenny. The charming creature. 

Bobby. Ah ! if any of you had had the luck to see me 
the day I was breeched. I've heard my mother say I looked 
like a little cherub. 

Jenny. Mothers have partial eyes ; besides — 

Bobby. I know not what you mean. I'm somewhat 
altered well I don't care ; I don't set myself up for a 
beauty ; but I'm vastly agreeable, upon my life I am ; and 
I see some among you who would give their eyes to be 
Mrs. Buckhorse. 

Girls. Faugh ! 

Bobby. Ha ! ha ! ha ! That's always the answer I get 
when I go a-courting. And so lads you are off to Mexico ? 
Well, you are right : you will return rich, marry, become 
husbands, fathers. Ah ! think of that : for my part, I 



4 

never think of fathers, I never think of children, but— Oh 
the joy of having a child one can call one's own ! one's 
own little likeness — Oh ! 

1st Man. All in good time, think first of getting 
married. 

Bobby. Of course. 

1st Man. But why don't you go with us, when there 
are such tempting offers? But you are an idle fellow — you 
have no enterprize. 

Bobby. Yes, but 1 have a prodigious deal ; but 111 tell 
you. You see the plague of it is, that in addition to my 
stock of enterprize, I happen to have a little property of 
forty pounds a-year, while you have the good luck to enjoy 
your enterprize unencumbered : you are all as poor as Job. 

1st Man. And what then, Bobby ? 

Bobby. Why then should you happen to fail, enterprize 

can leave you no worse off than she finds you ; while I 

I hope I make it clear to you. Besides which, I have 
another reason. 

Jenny. To dangle after Miss Priscilla no doubt. 

Bobby. There, you are jealous. 

Jenny. Jealous indeed, ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Bobby. Never mind, I'm not angry ; but that is not it. 
I have an old uncle in London, a hardwareman ; now when 
he dies, I come in for all the tea-trays and snuffer-stands ; 
and as I have great hopes, — that is to say, as I very much 
fear he can't last long, I don't think it would be prudent 
for me to be out of the way till he is. However, I wish 
you all good luck, and don't be jealous of me boys. 

1st Man. Jealous ! ha ! ha ! ha ! But come, now for 
our dance. 

Bobby. A dance \ come along, I'll join you with all my 
heart. Miss Jenny allow me to engage you for the 

Jenny. Do you think I'll dance with you, you ugly brute ? 

Bobby. Miss Bloomly, if you are not 

Sally B. Dance with you ! Upon my word ! (He goes 
to the others) 

1st Man. Stand off, Master Bobby, or I'll give you a 
hearty thrashing. 

Bobby. Give me a thrashing, ha I ha ! ha ! If I thought 
you meant to be personal, I'd resent it. But never mind. 
(Exeunt all but Bobby.) Ah ! there's Mrs. Candy. Upon 
my life she's a handsome woman still. I say, Mrs. Candy ? 

Mrs. Candy. And what have you to say to me, Mr. 
Bobby? 



Bobby. Your dancing days are not quite over yet : what 
say you to a {cuts a caper) — eh ? 

Mrs. Candy. With you, indeed ! that would be bringing 
my pigs to a fine market. [Ewit> 

Bobby. Ha! ha! ha! (laughs heartily.) That would 
be bringing her pigs — ha ! ha ! ha ! old Mrs. Candy too ! 
Well, upon my life it is the most ridiculous thing imagin- 
able ! Young women — old women ! Now I dare say they 
think it vexes me — not a bit. It might though if I were 
not the best tempered, merriest fellow in the universe* 
And why shouldn't I be merry ? I have forty pounds a-year 
and nothing to do but amuse myself. Lord, and so I do« 
I make love to every girl in the village, though I know 
there is not one of them will have me. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
that's the joke of it ; besides Priscilla is my mark ! she's 
the wife for me ; and if I don't make Mrs. Euckhorse of 
her one of these days — Ah ! there she goes. Ha ! ha ! 
ha ! as I hope to be saved she is as ugly a specimen of the 
fair sex as ever I clapp'd my eyes on. No matter ; she has 
refused me so often that I'll marry her if it is only out of 
spite. Egad, I'll after her and pop the question boldly 

once more ; and stop it's a desperate undertaking. 

(Calls.) Mrs. Candy, a glass of your cherry -bounce — 
I have two strings to my bow, for if my own spirits should 
fail, I can trust to Mrs. Candy's. [Exit into the house. 

Scene II. — A Meadow. 
Enter Priscilla Fadefast. 

All things considered, I am right in going to London: 
I have no chance of getting a husband here. Plague take 
the fellows, not one of them has ever said a civil thing to 
me ; except Bobby Buckhorse, indeed, and I have refused 
him over and over again. Now, when a woman is turned 
of twenty, — as I have been these twelve years — it is time 
she should look about her ; so if I find I cannot do better 
in London, I suppose I must put up with him for a hus- 
band. Yet, after all my past cruelty to him ; after so 
often telling him I'd rather never see the inside of a church 
than have him, how shall I venture to give him so flattering 
a hope ? How ? why, any how ; he's dying of love for 
me, and will be ready to run wild with joy when — he's 
here. 



Enter Bobby (singing.) 

Bobby. "Love tunes the fiddle string, 
And Hymen plays the" 

Devil — she's here before me, I ought to say something civil 
by way of amends. Miss Priscilla, I — I hope I haven't 
kept you waiting. 

Priscilla. Pray make no apology, Sir. 

Bobby. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Repartee ! Very smart on both 
sides. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Priscilla. You are merry, Mr. Bobby. 

Bobby. Aye, that I am, as merry as love and Mrs, 
Candy's cherry bounce can make me. 

Priscilla. Love, Mr. Buckhorse ! 

Bobby. Love Mr. Buckhorse ! Ah ! Priscilla, if you 
would — ! Love Mr. Buckhorse is what I have been 
wanting you to do these ten years. Will you ? Can you ? 
Look at me. 

Priscilla. Why — really 

Bobby. This is the first time I ever received any thing 
for answer but a plump" no, you brute !" now she hesitates 
— 'tis a favourable sign, so courage Bobby. Prissy, Prissy, 
I love you. There — now I'm clean in for it. 

Priscilla. O, Mr. Bobby— but you men are such de- 
ceivers. 

Bobby. We are— so we are, and be hang'd to us. But 
to prove my sincerity, don't go to London : say you'll have 
me, and neck or nothing, I'll make you Mrs. Buckhorse 
to-morrow. 

Pris. Go I must ; but hark'ee, Mr. Bobby, this is a 
serious affair — I — I wish to say a word to you. You will 
allow me to be plain. 

Bobby. Plain. Ha ! ha ! that's a very odd question. — 
Why, to say the truth, you are not absolutely a Venus, 
but- 

Pris. What ! what does the man mean ? 

Bobby. But so much the better. Ha ! ha ! ha ! we can't 
fall out on that score you know. 

Pris. I don't understand you, Sir. But listen to what 
I have to say. You know I have refused many matches. 

Bobby. (Aside) O, the old story again. 

Pris. First I might have been Mrs. Dibbs, next I 
might have been Mrs. Liffy, then I might have been Mrs. 
Poppleton, then 



7 

Bobby. That was fourteen years ago, you know; but 
you an't Mrs. Dibbs, nor Mrs. Liffy, nor Mrs. Poppleton 
yet. Now hear me, my dear : don't be angry ; I'm your 
friend. You know nobody ever offered twice except your 
devoted, and he sticks to you like treacle. 

Pris. How, Sir! 

Bobby. Don't be angry Prissy my dear, I speak for your 
good. You have overstood your market, and are a devilish 
lucky girl that I am at your elbow still ; but don't refuse 
any more matches, for at your time of life you mustn't ex- 
pect to be offered a whole bundle of matches at once to 
choose among. 

Pris. And pray, Sir, is this your manner of coming a 
courting ? 

Bobby. Where would be the use of my talking nonsense 
to you at this time o' day ? Haven't I been saying pretty 
things to you regularly three times a week these — let me 
see — it will be ten years come next April fool's day, and 
where am I now ? 

Pris. Where you deserve to be : you know you have 
made love to every girl in the village ; and because not one 
of them would listen to you, you return to me. 

Bobby. Why to be sure you don't think I was ever serious 
with them. Not I — I know myself better. If a poor man 
marries a rich wife, she's always twitting him with her 
fortune. So if I were to marry one of those girls, she'd be 
continually throwing her beauty in my face. 

Pris. Meaning that you'd have nothing of that kind to 
fear from me ? And if any one could throw their beauty 
in your face, it would be as good a thing as could happen 
to you, Mr. Bobby. 

Bobby. {Aside.) Hang it ! I'm afraid I've made a blun- 
der. Don't mistake me, Priscilla, I only meant to say, 
that — but no matter. What say you to me for a husband ? 
There. 

Pris. Well ! Mr. Buckhorse — I — I don't positively re- 
fuse you — but you must allow me time for considera- 
tion. 

Bobby. Now take a friend's advice — make sure of me 
while you can. Ecod, it won't be safe to stand shilly- 
shally another ten years. 

Pris. {Aside.) I don't intend it. But marriage is a 
serious matter, Mr. Buckhorse : I must have twelve months 
time to consider ; I am going to London on a visit to my 

aunt, Mrs. Sureshapes 

Bobby. The stay-maker ? 



Pris, Of Long Acre. 

Bobby. The devil take her ! And what am I to do for a 
whole twelvemonth ? 

Pris. Do ? why hope, Mr. Bobby, hope, and if at the 
end of that time — — 

Bobby. You can't do better, you'll make shift with me. 
Well, upon my life, that's very flattering. 

Pris. You — you misunderstand me — but — will you give 
me this proof of your affection ? 

Bobby. And if in that time a rival — {aside after looking 
at her.) Pooh ! there's no fear of that — well Prissy — and 
then 

Pris. And then, should our hearts still be free, I'm 
your's. 

Bobby. Mine ! mine ! may I believe my ears ? Mine ' 
so then at last there is a chance of my having a wife of my 
own. Tol, lol, de riddle lol. 

Pris. Why, Mr. Buckhorse what's the matter with you ? 

Bobby. Mine ! O Prissy, the very thought of becom- 
ing a husband-~-a father ! 

Pris. Mr. Bobby 

Bobby. Of being surrounded by one's own lovely off- 
spring, 

Pris. Mr. Bobby-— 

Bobby. Of dandling half-a-dozen sweet little Buckhorses 
on one's knee. 

Pris. Mr. Bobby — 

Bobby. Then the consideration it gives one in the world ! 
Married man — head of a family. "How d'ye do, Mr. 
Buckhorse? How is Mrs. B. ? Are these little cherubs 
ail your own ?" Charming sounds ! (takes her under his 
arm and walks about with her.) Or, " how d'ye do, Tom, 
allow me to present my wife to you — an old friend of mine 
before we were married my dear." Oh ! oh ! 

Pris. Harky'e, Sir, if I hear a word more of this, or if 
you mention a syllable of your hopes to any soul in the 
village, I retract. (Aside.) I should be the laugh of the 
place if they thought I was compelled to take up with Mr. 
Buckhorse after all. 

Bobby. Well, I'll endeavour to repress my ecstacy. 

Pris. Or if I should condescend to accept you, and think 
proper to conceal our union for a time 

Bobby. Conceal it ? 

Pris. Aye, conceal it, I shall insist, but here comes 
Mrs. Candy, I must away ; I wouldn't be seen talking to 
a young man for the universe. Don't follow me, Sir. [Exit, 



9 

Bobby. Mighty short and snappish ! No matter, I never 
got so far into a woman's good graces in my life. Conceal 
it, I shall never be able to— Tol, lol, de riddle lol. 

Enter Mrs. Candy, 

Mrs. Candy.. What are you so frisky about, when all 
the village is in tears ? 

Bobby, Upon my word ! and what is all the village in 
tears about, when I'm so frisky ? 

Mrs. Candy. The poor dear lads! they are all ordered 
away at a moment's notice, and are— 

Bobby. Going? 

Mrs. Candy. Gone; and now they are gone, we feel 
our deserted, forlorn condition. 

Bobby. Ah I it is a judgment upon you all for slighting 
a comely young fellow as you have done ; but don't take 
on so Mrs. Candy while I'm here. 

Mrs. Candy. You, pooh ! 

Bobby. You, pooh ! As times go, let me tell you Tin 
not to be pooh'd at. No picking and choosing now for you. 
I'm a scarce commodity, mind you that, and ecod 

Mrs. Candy, A precious rarity indeed — stand out of 
my way do. [Exit Mrs. Candy. 

Bobby. A rarity, aye, and so you'd say if I dared tell 
you all — ha ! ha ! ha ! I'm bespoke for this day twelve- 
months. [Exit. 

Scene 3. — Another part of the village, a cottage on one 
side, Margery sitting at her spinning wheel. 

Margery. O dear ! what a change in a short time ; one 
may well say a scarce bird is a choice bird. As long as 
sweethearts might be had for asking, not a girl in the 
village would deign to look at my poor Bobby. Now that 
he is the only bachelor left they are all pulling caps for 
him. Already have I had half a dozen of them with me, 
each beseeching me to say a word to him in her favour. 
Ah ! dear, dear ! hardly have their swains turned their backs 
— Surely there's no such thing as constancy left in the world. 
Here comes another, and on the same errand I'll be bound. 

Enter Jenny Styles. 

Well, and what are you looking about for ? 
Jenny. Nothing, Mrs. Margery. 



10 

Margery. My god-son, Bobby, isn't at home. 

Jenny. Fie, Mrs. Margery, you don't suppose— 

Margery. Yes, but I do suppose, and you are not the 
only one ; aye, aye, I knew how it would be. Your sweet- 
hearts are ail gone — they may be faithless, or may never 

return. A bird in the hand well, well, my Bobby may 

pick and choose now, but were I in his place I'd be re- 
venged, and have nothing to say to any of you. 

Jenny. I'm sure I never was one to slight him, and 
though I never would walk with him, nor talk to him, nor 
dance with him 

Margery. You make amends by giving him the prefe- 
rence now the rest are gone. 

Jenny. But indeed 1 always had a sort of regard for Mr. 
Buckhorse, and have often said though he was not down- 
right handsome, yet that any woman might be very happy 
with him. At any rate he's a thousand times too good tor 
that frump, Priscilla ; besides she's too old for him. 

Margery. Then what say you to Sally Bloomly for a 
wife for him ? 

Jenny. She's too young ; and then I suspect Mrs. Candy 
has an eye on him ; but she's old enough to be his mother. 
No, no, I have a wife in my eye for him. Ah ! Mrs. 
Candy is coming this way, don't tell her what I have said 
to you ; I'll come to you again when she's gone ; good 
bye, dear Mrs. Margery, remember me kindly to Mr. 
Buckhorse, [Exit, 

Enter Mrs. Candy. 

Mrs. Candy, {looking after Jenny.) So — how d'ye do 
my good Margery ? You are quite alone I see. 

Margery. If you mean to enquire about my Bobby. — 

Mrs. Candy. Fie, Margery, do you think I would en- 
quire after a young man. Pray wasn't it Jenny Styles 
who just left you ? 

Margery. Yes ; — she's like the rest of them. She be- 
gins now to repent her cruelty to my sweet Bobby. 

Mrs. Candy. She ! I wonder at the young tit ! No, no, 
she isn't the wife for Mr. Buckhorse. A staid, comely, 
comfortable woman, with a good business, is the wife for 
him. 

Margery. So, so; — I don't know any thing about the 
matter, Mrs, Candy. Mr. Bobby is master to choose for 
himself, and now he may choose where he will. 

Mrs. Candy, Mrs, Margery, I have always looked upon 



ii 

you as a sensible sort of body : a person one may consult, 
You know the Green Dragon is the best public-house in 
the place. 

Margery. That it is, for it is the only one. 

Mrs. Candy. It is too much for a poor lone woman like 
myself to manage. I have been five years a widow, and 
that is a long time, Margery. 

Margery. Widows always think so ; but what then ? 

Mrs. Candy. Why harkye, my dear Margery ! — I have 
long had a sort of esteem for Mr. Buckhorse, and if I have 
been rather short and snappish with him too, it was to con- 
ceal it from those little tittering minxes, who in short, 

Margery, my business would go on much better if I had a 
husband to look after it ; and as I have saved a trifle of 
money, and as Mr. Buckhorse is — but I am called — Good 
bye for the present, my good Margery : — think of what I 
have said to you, and remember me very kindly to Mr. 
Uuckhorse. [Exit. 

Margery. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Remember me kindly, and 
remember me very kindly. Here's a change ! Well, I 
always prophesied how it would be ; I always said my 
Bobby's good fortune would come upon him all at once ; 
and so it has : for from being looked upon as nobody by 
the lasses, here is he become cock of the walk ; and as I live, 
here he comes with all the girls after him. 

Voices without " Bobby, Bobby.*" 
Enter Bobby, decorated with Jlowers, ribbons, fyc. 

Bobby, (speaking as lie enters.) Keep away ; if you 
follow me a step farther I'll have nothing to say to any of 
you. Uph ! upon my life this is too much of a good 
thing. 

Margery. Why, my sweet Bobby, how came you by all 
this finery ? 

Bobby. How ? Why, my sweet nurse, Margery, 'tis all 
bribery and corruption. This is a present from Kitty Rattle, 
this from Sally Bloomly, this from Jenny Styles, who all 

turned up their noses at me this very morning; this 

It never rains but it pours ; and here is a deluge of love 
enough to drown a man. 

Margery. At last they have discovered your merit. I 
knew they would. 

Bobby. Aye ; now there is no one else they give me the 
preference. Before there was too little— now there's too 



12 

much. Laugh if you please ; but it is no laughing matter, 
and ecod I can't stand it. Coaxed by one, teazed by this, 
tormented by the other. — Why even old Mrs. Candy has 
cast an eye at me. 

Margery. Ah ! I always said my pretty Bobby would 
be a favourite among the women. 

Bobby. But if all this plague is the consequence of being 
a favourite among the women, your pretty Bobby had 
rather not. Yon know I'm not used to it ; it is quite out 
of my way, — and ecod I 

Margery. Well, my child, take this opportunity of get- 
ting yourself well married ; you may choose a wife where 
you will, so choose the richest. 

Bobby. What old Mrs. Candy ? 

Margery. Mrs. Candy, you know, is the only woman 
of substance in the place, — there's something solid for you. 

Bobby. Solid, aye and plaguey tough too; no, no, 
Priscilla is my mark ; and now I may tell you — it's all 
settled between us. 

Margery. Settled ! Has she then consented ? 

Bobby. As good as consented; she has promised to 
have me, provided she can't do better. So I'm safe enough 
there, you know. 

Margery. Well, but now that you may choose here 

Bobby. Why, I'll tell you — I own I give Prissy the 
preference. I am as jealous as the blackamoor in the play, 
and with such a Desdemony as Priscilla there's no danger 
you know. However, I have set my heart on having a wife, 
and a wife I'll have by hook or by crook ; so in case she 
should get married before the year's end, I'll promise them 
all. 

Voices without, " Bobby, Bobby." 

Oh ! here they come again ! what a thing it is to be a 
scarce commodity! Bobby here, Bobby there, Bobby 
everywhere ! yesterday it was Bobby no where. 

Margery. You have but your deserts my own child. 

Bobby. It may seem very pleasant to you, but this I can 
tell you, Margery, I'd rather list for a soldier than be 
tormented in this way. 
Enter Jenny Styles and Mrs. Candy {at opposite sides.) 

Margery. Ah ! dear Mr. Bobby, I have found you at 
last. 

Bobby. Oh! its beginning again — (turns.) — And here 
comes old solidity too 



13 



Mrs. Candy. So, so, Miss, and its dear Mr. Bobby 
again is it ? Come with me, I have something to say to 
you. [Pulls him. 

Jenny. Stay where you are, I wish to speak to you. 

[Pulls. 

Mrs. Candy. Did not you just now promise to think no 
more of him ? [Bobby endeavours to disengage himself. 

Jenny. What if I did ? So did you. 

Mrs. Candy. I have thought better of it, and as there 
is no one remaining but Mr. JBuckhorse, I'm determined to 
marry him. 

Jenny. I'm sure he must feel very much flattered — 
Come this way, Bobby. 

Mrs. Candy. So he would if he knew all the civil things 
you have said of him. 

Jenny. No matter for that — he's better than no husband 
at all. 

Bobby. Help — help — what the deuce — Margery 

Margery. Do you want to be the death of the dear 
child between you ? 

Mrs. Candy. No ; but I'd strangle him rather than she 
should have him. 

Bobby. The tender loving souls ! Thank'ee kindly, but 
by your leave ladies. — \He runs up the stage, and meets 
all the other women, who enter. ,] — Oh ! 

{They all come forward.) 

Girls. Mr. Bobby, a word — I want to speak to you, 

Bobby. And I want to speak to you — to you — to all of you. 

Girls. Hear him — hear him. 

Bobby. (Aside.) As Margery says, I'm cock of the walk — 
so I'll take a high tone with them. Young ladies, Mrs. 
Candy included. In the first place ladies, one thing must be 
very clear to you, which is that with the best intentions to 
make myself agreeable, I can't marry you all. 

Mrs. Candy. That's very clear — so choose at once — and 
choose wisely. 

Girls. Choose wisely — choose wisely. 

Mrs. Candy. But I propose one thing, dear Mr. Bobby : 
that the eldest have the preference. 

Jenny. And I propose that those who have already been 
married be excluded altogether. 

Girls. Certainly, certainly. 



14 

Bobby. Matter for future consideration, my dears. In 
the second place — as I can marry only one of you — at a 
time- — I shall require a twelvemonth to settle my choice. 

All. Oh ! 

Bobby. In the third place— no observations — I am abso- 
lute — since husbands, my dears, are not to be found in the 
gooseberry bushes in this village, unless you all agree to 
this condition — I'll marry none of you. 

All. {In a melancholy tone.) We do. 

Bobby. And in the fourth place— (a drum and Jjfe 
heard.} 

Jenny, What's that ? 

Bobby, It sounds amazingly like a drum and fife — And 
in the fourth place — (They drop from him one by one.) 

Sally B. (who has been looking out) Why, I declare 
it is a recruiting party. 

AIL A recruiting party ! 

Bobby. Come to recruit me I suppose. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
Ecod they wont easily make up a company here, unless 
they are for the old women. But harkye girls ; in the fourth 
place, I intend you all to have a fail* chance for me ; no 
undue preference ; no underhand work to win me ; ( the 
recruiting party come on, and the girls leave him one by 
one.) I say Jenny, my dear, no undue — 

Jenny. Not so fast Mr. Bobby — it must be matter for 
future consideration. (She walks up the stage. 

Bobby. But Mrs. Candy — 

Mrs. Candy. I shall require a twelvemonth to settle my 
choice. (Goes up the stage. 

Bobby. Ah ! 1 see how it is. Now isn't this enough to 
provoke a saint ; I was carrying every thing before me 
when at the very sound of a drum — the fickle-hearted 
jades ! — As soon as they think there's any thing better to 
be got — I've a great mind to enlist and abandon them all. 

Serjeant, (comes forward.) Ha ! ha ! ha ! The only 
man in the village ! Well, I must get him if I can ! Gad, 
you are an amazing fine fellow ! What say 3 T ou to serving 
your king and country ? 

Bobby, (to the women) D'ye hear that ? He says I'm an 
amazing fine fellow. 

Serjeant. Come with me and I'll soon teach you to pull 
a trigger. 

Bobby. You'll teach me to — So you really think I'm a 
fine fellow ? 



15 

Serjeant. That you are ; and I'll be shot if you are not a 
colonel in a year. 

Bobby. Or a corporal in two ? Pooh ! it won't do. Ha ! 
ha! ha! 

Serjeant No game here, I find. 

Enter Margery. 

Margery. Why, I declare here's a letter from London for 
you, and with a black seal. 

Bobby. A black seal! why I know nobody in London 
but my uncle, the hardwareman, and he would not seal 
his letter with black unless he were dead. (Opens it.) 
It is so — 'tis from his lawyer. Read it Margery. " Sony 
to inform you your uncle died last week." {Margery reads.) 

Bobby. My poor uncle ! ( Weeps.) 

Margery. (Beads) " Happy to say he has bequeathed 
you the whole of his property." 

Bobby. That's lucky indeed. 

Margery. (Reads.) " Lament to add he suffered consi= 
derably." 

Bobby. O my poor uncle ! 

Margery. " Gratified to state his property in money and 
stock in trade exceeds two thousand pounds." (All the 
women gather round Bobby.) 

Bobby. Two thousand pounds ! (Sings and dances.) 
Tol de rol de rol. (Weeps.) Poor old fellow ! Stay where 
you are boys. Come along girls, I'll treat you all with a 
dinner and dance at the Green Dragon. 

Mrs. Candy. Two thousand pounds, Dear Mr. Bobby 
I wish you joy. 

Jenr,.y. Dear Mr. Buckhorse, I congratulate you. 

Bobby. Ha ! ha ! dear Mr. Bobby, and dear Mr. Buck- 
horse again ; but it won't do now, I'm off to London, and 
old Margery shall go along with me. We'll see whether 
Prissy will make me wait a twelvemonth now. But come, 
strike up drum and fife ; we'll have a dance at once. I 
can cry for my poor uncle all the way to town. Come, 
who'll be my partner ? 

All. I_I—I— 

Bobby. Gad, I'm cock of the walk again. 

[A dance, and the curtain drops, 

END OF ACT I. 



16 

ACT II. 

Scene I. — Margery's Cottage. 

Margery. Ah me ! we live to see wonderful changes! 
that ever I should quit my native village ! But I'd have 
followed my Bobby to the world's end ; so when he went 
to London a year ago to take possession of his uncle's 
property and marry Priscilla, 1 couldn't do otherwise than 
go with him. A cottage was taken for me here at High- 
gate, and now — bless the dear infant how it sleeps — Well 
I nurs'd its father, and I hope I shall live to nurse its 
father's grand-child. (A knock.) A knock ! I shouldn't 
wonder if it were Mr. and Mrs. Buckhorse ; this is their 
day to visit the child, and — (opens.) What ! Mr. Stanley ! 
Who'd have thought of seeing you ? 

(Enter Young Stanley. ) 

Y. Stan. And what is there so extraordinary in it 
my good Margery ? Do I ever pass your door without 
paying you a visit ; or do you think I shall ever forget 
your care of me when I was thrown from my horse, and — 

Margery. Ah ! Mr. Robert, why do you gallop so hard ? 
But I'm an old fool to ask it. A lover on horseback on the 
road to 

F. Stan. Psha ! Margery, you are mistaken. 

Margery. Mistaken ! no, no ; you can't deceive me : 
didn't I perceive it in the extreme anxiety of Mrs. Welford, 
the day you met with that accident, and were brought into 
my cottage ; and has she not proved it in her kindness to 
me ever since? to me who am a stranger in this neigh- 
bourhood. 

Y. Stan. Ah ! Margery. 

Margery. Well, now, she is young, handsome, rich, and 
a widow- — why don't you marry ? 

F. Stan. Why, you must know that the only relation I 
have in the world is an old uncle, a merchant in London, 
who loves me most affectionately, and swears he'll kick me 
out of doors, and cut me off with a shilling if I dare to 
marry. 

Margery. An odd way of shewing his love, truly. 

F. Stan. But could he see Mrs. Welford, young, ami- 
able, accomplished Ah ! here she comes. 



IT 



Enter Mrs. Welford. 



Mrs. IV. Good morning, Margery, I have brought 
you a basket of fruit from my garden. {Margery curtsies 
and exit.) Well Mr. Stanley, have you spoken to your 
uncle yet ? 

Y. Stan. I have, and he seems more decided than ever 
against my marrying. But as he is obstinate, so shall he 
find me; and we'll see whether— — 

Mrs. W. Harkye, Charles; once more I repeat to you 
what I have often said : — Without your uncle's consent I 
never will be yours. 

Y. Stan. Then promise me, that should my uncle persist 
in his refusal, you will allow me to introduce you to him, 

Mrs. W. Well, I promise. 

Y. Stan. Then my happiness is certain. A moment's 
acquaintance with you will assure his approval of my 
choice, and 

Enter Margery, hastily. 

Margery. Pray don't be angry with me, Ma'am — don't 
be offended, Sir, but 

Mrs. W. Speak, Margery, what is it ? 

Margery. Why — I must beg you both to go away. 

Mrs. W. Certainly we will, but why ? 

Margery You know the infant I have here at nurse — 
well, the father and mother are coming, and they would 
not be seen by any one for the world. 

Young Stan. A young couple secretly married, Eh ? 

Margery. Why it is a sort of secret ; but I'll tell you, 
for I'm sure you'll not mention it. 

Mrs. W. You may rely on it. 

Margery. You must know that Miss Fadefast, as she 
was called before she married my Bobby, had been many a 
long year looking out for a husband, and because nobody 
offered to her mind, she pretended to be an enemy to mar- 
riage herself, and endeavoured to set every one else against 
it. 

Young Stan. Then how came she to marry your Bobby, 
after all ? 

Margery. Why, he had been courting her a long long 
time without success, till, about a year ago, coming up to 
London to take possession of a Httle property 



18 

Young Stan. I perceive : he is less indebted for his suc- 
cess to Love than to Plutus. 

Margery. Plutus ! Lord bless you, that wasn't the gen- 
tleman ; Mr. Plutus never left him a groat ; but his uncle, 
the hardwareman, 

Mrs. W. So the lady having become a convert to matri- 
mony, and withal married the man she affected to despise, 
she is fearful lest by avowing her marriage, she should be- 
come the jest of her old acquaintance. 

Margery. Exactly so. As for my Bobby, he's for telling 
it to all the world ; and while his wife is passing herself 
off as the aunt or the god-mother of that dear little infant ; 
he is so proud of being a father, — as if it were something 
quite wonderful, — that with his will he'd go about proclaim- 
ing it by beat of drum. But they are coming up the hill, 
and I must go and meet them. 

Mrs. W. Well, Margery, we'll not betray your secret. 

Margery. Lord, Lord, its hardly worth calling one. If 
nurses never had more ticklish secrets than such as this in 

their keeping ! Good morning, madam — Good 

morning, Mr, Charles. [Exit. 

Scene 2. — The Road to Highgate. 

Enter Bobby and Peiscilla. 

Bobby. Come along, my dear, do come along. 

Pris. Do you want to drag my arm off, Mr. Buckhorse ? 
Drag, drag, drag, up Highgate-hill, on a broiling hot day 
like this ! I declare I'm ready to faint. 

Bobby. But consider, my dear, we are ten minutes after 
time, and I haven't seen the little creature since last, Sun- 
day. 

Pris. The little creature can wait, I dare say. 

Bobby. It has grown out of knowledge, I'll answer for it. 
Come, come, we'll go in here at the garden gate and take 
Margery by surprise. Come on, my dear wife, do 

Pris. Wife again ! Harkye, Sir, a word before we go 
in. — Should any one be there, and you dare to call me wife 
— or, if you dare to insinuate that I am any thing but the 
child's aunt or its god-mother 

Bobby. Its aunt ! When I think 

Pris. Very well, you know the condition on which I 
consented to marry you, and once for all «^- 

Bobby, And once for all. I thought this was to be the 



19 

secret of a week or so ; instead of which here is upwards of 
-a twelvemonth I Aunt indeed ! upon my life it is high 
time you should think of being the mother of my son. 

Pris. It is sufficient that you are its father, so don't you 
grumble. 

Bobby. That's something to be sure ; but don't I doat on 
the little darling, don't I adore you ? How much longer 
then am I to stifle in my own bosom, the joy, the delight of 
being a husband and a father. When am I to present him 
to the world as my heir — when enjoy his infantine caresses 
without fear or reserve ? 

Pris. When I think proper. 

Bobby. Well, I suppose It's plaguy hard though, 

my dear. 

Pris. Say no more about it. You ought to think your- 
self obliged that I married you at all, and 

Bobby. Obliged ! why, my dear, you were on your last 
iegs, you know. 

Pris. What do you mean by that, Sir ? 

Bobby. That you had a squeak for it. But never mind ; 
though you waited a long time for a husband, I flatter my 
self you liave lost nothing by waiting, 

Pris. Indeed ! 

Bobby But here comes Margery, 

Enter Margery, 

Ah ! Margery — tell me all about him — Is he well ?— does 
he grow ? — here Margery, here are the savoy biscuits — here 
the arrow root — here's his coral — here are the little caps. 

Pris. But you don't allow Margery to speak ; how is it? 

Margery. Oh ! such a fine baby — thrives ! — but you'll 
see, and, Sir, such news for you, yesterday it cut its first 
tooth. 

Bobby. Cut a tooth ! do you hear that ? He has cut a 
tooth ! Come, my dear, let us go in and see it. So it has 
cut a tooth ! 

Margery. And the quietest, best tempered child that 
«ver came into the world. It has never cried once since it 
has been here. 

Bobby. Never cried ! the little angel i What's that cry- 
ing now * 

Margery. Well, now that's surprising — that's the very 
first time, — Lord, I should not wonder if they have let the 
poor innocent fall. 

Bobby. Let him fail — Oh ! \Exeunt omnes. 



Scene S. — View at Highgate. — Margery's House on 
one side. 

Enter Old Stanley. 

Stanley. From the description my nephew's servant has 
given me, it must be somewhere hereabouts. I think I 
have at length discovered the object of Robert's morning 
and afternoon rides, which he has so cautiously endeavoured 
to conceal from me. Marry ! no, no ; he shall live single 
I am determined. At least if he desires to preserve my 
favour. Lovely and gentle ; virtuous and accomplished — ■ 
Fsha ! so is every woman one is in love with. 

Enter Young Stanley. 

Young Stanley. My uncle here ! 

Old Stanley. But no matter: I'll put an end to this 
affair at once ; I'll see the lady ; explain to her my objec- 
tions and — So, so, here you are Master Robert. Come, 
come, I have discovered that your frequent visits here are 
to the lady you have so often mentioned to me. 

Young Stanley. Well, Sir — I confess it. 

Old Stanley. And dare you still think of marriage- 
spite of my prohibition — my threatened anger ? 

Young Stanley. Your anger is never of long duration, 
Sir, and 

Stanley. I am in no jesting humour, Sir ; to-morrow at 
day-break you and I will set off together for rny place in 
Yorkshire. A few months absence will — 

Charles. Avail nothing, Sir ? 

Stan. We'll try however, and to-morrow morning— 

Char. Are you in earnest, Sir. 

Stan. You'll find I am. 

Char, {aside.) I'll not go however. I have it : I'll 
make him believe I am married: let's -see how he'll take it. 
(affecting contrition) I'm very sorry, Sir, but it is impos- 
sible for me to accompany you. 

- Stan. Impossible ! and why not, Sir ? 

Y. Stan. Sir — there is an insurmountable obstacle. 
O. Stan. And what may that be ? — Speak. 
Y. Stan. A Kem ! Sir, at the sacred altar of Love, 
Hymen having lighted his torch 

- O. Stan. What ! 



21 

Y. 8tan: I say, Sir, that Hymen having lighted — - 

O. Stan. Hymen be damned 1 In plain English you 
are married ? And have you dared ? But no ; this is a mere 
trick ; a politic attempt to discover how such a step would 
in reality affect the old gentleman. But I see through it 
at once, and it won't do. 

Y. Skin, (aside.) The devil ! 

O. Stan. Ha ! ha ! ha ! To complete the tale, your 
marriage ought to have been blest with one interesting 
pledge of affection at least. 

Y. Stan, (aside) Devilish good idea — so it shall be. 
Sir— 

O. Stan. Well, what now ? 

Y. Stan. Don't ask me ! 

O. Stan. Not ask you ! What ! What the deuce have 
you to say ? 

Y. Stan. Oh ! I cannot speak — let me retire for an in- 
stant and endeavour to summon up sufficient fortitude to — 
Oh ! [Rushes off. 

O. Stan. What does he mean — should it really be so ! 

Enter Margery. 

Margery. Well, they are a silly couple to make a 
mystery of their marriage, as if there was any harm in it. 
And the dear baby too ! why not acknowledge it at once 
to all the world. Pretty innocent ! I'm sure it is as like 
the father as one drop of water is like another. 

Stan. Ah ! What do I hear ! My good woman — a 
word with you. You were saying something about a child ? 

Margery. Aye— one I have here at nurse. 

O. Stan. And pray whose is it ? 

Margery. Why it belongs to — {checking herself) its 
father and mother I suppose* 

O. Stan. And who are they ? 

Margery. That is precisely what I must not tell you. 

O. Stan. Now don't be in such haste, (takes out his 
purse) Tell me the name of its parents, and — 

Margery. Put up your purse my kind Sir ; if the 
parents thought proper to trust me with the secret of their 
marriage, it was not that I might sell it to the best bidder. 

O. Stan. A secret marriage ! 'Tis true then I The 
father has just been here, hasn't he ? 

Margery. No— y — yes — no, no. 



0. Stan. She hesitates. Fll throw her off her guard by 
& leading question. — You often see young Mr. Stanley ? 

Margery. Well, Sir, and what then ? 

Stan* Is the mother here now ? 

Margery. Lord, Sir, what business is it of yours ? A 
very inquisitive person indeed. [Exit Margery. 

O. Stan, 'Tis past a doubt, and I discard him for ever ! 

Enter Bobby from Margery's Cottage. 

Bobby. The sweet little cherub ! So plump and chubby 
and rosy ! Its the very spirit of me ! and what a size for 
its age. (Runs up against Stanley. 

0. Stan. Zounds, Sir ! I wish you'd keep your ecstacies a 
little within bounds. 

Bobby. What, Sir ! I wasn't speaking of you. Besides 
the King's highway is as free to me as another, I suppose. 
A nice tempered fellow that, upon my life. Not so easy to 
keep one's ecstacies within bounds, when one sees the little 
darling thriving so. 

Stan, (retiring) I beg pardon, Sir — you seem to take 
some interest in that child. 

Bobby. And natural enough I should, considering it is 
my own (looking towards the cottage) my own god-son. 

Stan. How ! and did you dare stand god-father to 

Bobby Suppose I did, Sir, and suppose I didn't — I don't 
see how it concerns you. 

0. Stan. Believe me but it does Sir : I am but too 
interested in the affair. 

Bobby. The deuce you are ! 

Stan. You seem to be a respectable man, Sir, and I am 
astonished that you should have consented to become a 
party to so unwarrantable a proceeding, by lending your 
sanction to a clandestine union ! 

Bobby. Eh ! Does he mean me ? 

Stan. Do you know the father ? 

Bobby. I flatter myself I do. 

Stan. I mean are you acquainted with his connexions ? 
Do you know who he really is ? I alas ! know him but too 
well. 

Bobby, Do you ? (aside) Can't say I ever saw him before. 

Stan. Dare to take such a step without my knowledge or 
consent ! 

Bobby. And who the devil are you, that your consent was 
necessary ? 



23 

O. Stan. His uncle, Sir. 

Bobby. Who's uncle ? 

O. Stan. Know then in a word, that the thoughtless pa- 
rent of that child, Mr. Robert Stanley, is my nephew. 

Bobby. Your nephew the father — I say, no joking on that 
score, if you please, Mister . 

Stan. I am not just now in a humour for joking, Sir. 

Bobby. Then, pray who put such a rhodomontade into 
your head ? 

Stan. Would to Heaven it were so. But alas ! my ne- 
phew — my nephew himself has just confessed his error to me. 

Bobby, (stupified) Confessed — when ? where ? 

Stan. On this very spot, within this half hour ! ,r Fis 
unfortunately beyond a doubt. 

Bobby. Don't say so. And am I — (aside) O dear ! So 
after all then, the child I have been pressing with such 
fondness to my bosom is 

Stan. My nephew sees with a lover's eyes : Pray, Sir, 
do tell me, what sort of woman is the mother ? (Bobby 
stands mute with Jwrror and astonishment) What kind of 
woman is the mother ? 

Bobby. Eh !— Oh !— The mother ! Till now I always 
thought her O Prissy ! 

O. Stan. I ask you, Sir, . 

Bobby. Don't ask me ; here comes the woman to answer 
for herself. (Aside). Til not see her just yet, for if I did 
— But I'm not the man to bear this with impunity ; I'll 
seek out this Mr. Stanley, and having convinced myself, 
I'll not leave a whole bone in my wife's body. [Exit. 



Enter Peiscilla. 

O. Stan. Young and lovely; why the booby must be 
blind. 

Pris. Why, where is the man going at that rate ? 

O. Stan. However, as she is gentle and accomplished, I '11 
acquaint her with my intentions as politely as possible. 
( To Priscilla, who is going.) — Madam, I must entreat the 
honour of a moment's conversation with you. 

Pris. With me indeed ! you are mistaken, I can tell you 
that. I don't know you, and you don't know me, so you 
can't have any thing to say to me. 

O. Stan. All I can say now is useless — the mischief is 



24 

effected ; yet must I tell you, Madam, that by the step vou 
have consented to . 

Pris. What step, Sir ; what do you mean ? 

O. Stan. I am informed of your marriage, so there is no 
longer any thing to conceal from me. 

Pris. (aside) Why how should he of all people 

Informed, Sir ! then whoever told you I am married, told 
you a -. 

O. Stan. He must be deaf as well as blind ! I cannot 
doubt my authority, Madam ; Robert — but never again will 
1 call him by that name — your husband has himself con- 
fessed all to me. (Pointing to the cottage). I know it all. 

Pris. (aside) So ! he has been blabbing ; and to a 
stranger too ! but he shall smart for this. Yet after all, 
who are you ? and what business is it of your's ? and what 
is it to you whether I am married, or whether I am not 
married? and 

O. Stan. I have done, Madam ; here's a termagant ! but 
pray inform your husband I have seen you, and that having 
seen you, his uncle is less inclined than ever to pardon his 
disobedience. 

Pris. What ! you Bobby's uncle ! 

O. Stan. O, the vulgar creature ! Calls him Bobby too ! 
And is this the woman — ! 

Pris. But that won't do, let me tell you ; Bobby never 
had but one uncle in his life. 

O. Stan. Unhappily for me I am that one. 

Pris. Indeed ! Then if you are, you are a hardwareman, 
and have been dead a year. It won't do, you see. Don t 
say any more to me: you're an impostor. But 1 11 teach 
Mr. Bobby to chatter, I will. [Exit. 

O. Stan. Well, here is a precious addition to the family ! 
So this is the creature on whom he has bestowed such extra- 
vagant praises. 

Enter Young Stanley. 

O Stan. I wonder at your presuming to appear again 
before me. 

Y. Stan. I hoped to find you better disposed to listen 
to me, my dear uncle. 

0. Stan. Call me no more by that title, 1 renounce you 
for ever. Yet a word or two — Have you not described to 
me the object of your choice as beautiful in person 



25 

y. Stan. As an angel. 

O. Stan. In mind and manners 

Y. Stan, Cultivated and refined in the highest degree. 

O. Stan. In temper 

Y. Stan. Gentleness itself. 

O. Stan. Infatuation beyond example. I have seen the 
monster— I have conversed with the vulgar termagant. 
Refined ! O that a nephew of mine should marry a woman 
who can call her husband Bobby ! 

Y. Stan. What can he mean ? Surely, Sir, you don't 
pretend that you have seen the lady. I have this instant 
quitted her house, and- 

O. Stan. The lady has this instant quitted me. I am 
now acquainted with it all, Sir. I have seen the nurse— I 
have seen the godfather— and to prove to you I'm well 
(Bobby appears) informed, there {pointing to Margery a 
cottage) there lies the innocent evidence of your folly. 

Bobby. So, that's the villain ! 

Y. Stan. Ha ! ha ! ha ! I take : you have found out the 
joke. Ha ! ha ! ha! 

Bobby. He calls it a joke too ! a precious joke indeed ! 

Y. Stan. You have found it out and are good-natured 
enough to join in it. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Bobby. The hard-hearted rascal ! he laughs at it, while 

O. Stan What ! have they been jesting with me? 
Harkye, Robert, I ask you seriously, are you married to 
the woman I have just seen ? 

Y. Stan. Then seriously, Sir, I know not whom you have 
seen ; but I am certain you have not seen the lady I have 
so often mentioned to you. Let me introduce you to her, 
and you'll be convinced. 

O. Stan Any thing to clear my mind of this horror. 
Assure me that you have not brought such a wife as I have 
seen into the family ; and in my joy at the relief, I could 
pardon almost any thing else. 

Y. Stan. Could you, Sir ? This way then, and you shall 
he satisfied. {Exit Old Stanley, Young Stanley 
following.) 

Bobby (After an effort, comes forward.) I must— my 
honour — Sir — Mister — I— I have something to say to you. 

Y. Stan. In few words, then, if you please, Sir, for I am 
in haste. 

Bobby. Sir — I—my name, Sir, is Buckhorse. 

E 



26 

Y. Stan. Sir, it is a very pretty name, and I wish you 
joy of it. (Exit laughing.) 

Bobby. ( Calling after him.) Yes, Sir, but that is not 
all. 0, he shall not carry it off in that way. I'll have 
satisfaction. There's no need to fight for it, so I will have 
satisfaction. Sir, you'll please to consider yourself horse- 
whipt. O ! she comes. 

Enter Priscilla. 

Pris. Pray Sir, must I run all over the place after you ? 

Bobby. I can't bear to look at her. 

Pris. And so you have divulged the secret at last. 

Bobby. I have discovered a secret. O Prissy, and is this 
the return for a ten years courtship ? 

Pris. Pooh ! Pooh ! what do you mean ? 

Bobby. Pooh ! Pooh ! No, Prissy, what I mean is 
paw-paw. 

Pris. Is the man out of his senses ? Harkye, Mr. 
Bobby, you are a 

Bobby. I know it ; and I'll take care that all England 
shall know it. All the world shall know what I am. 
Buckhorse versus Stanley. 

Pris. And who is Stanley, pray ? 

Bobby. Your paramount, since I must tell you. But I 
have seen him, and I'll see him again. I'll have satis- 
faction. 

Pris. So those are the crotchets you have got in your 
head. 

Bobby. Crotchets indeed. 

Pris. O the monster ! If I thought, you thought — 

Bobby. Threaten as much as you please; I don't see 
what I've to be afraid of now. 

Pris. And have I — have I —lived to be suspected. 

Bobby. Suspected ! mighty nice upon my w 7 ord ! Sus- 
pected ! 

Pris. O this is too much ! (bursts into tears.) 

Bobby. Aye that's right ! Weep, — weep and blow your 
nose like a crocodile. I have most cause to weep. — When 
I think — So its for little Master Stanley I've been stuffing 
my pockets full. 

Pris. Don't provoke me further, I'll not bear it. 

Bobby Bear it or not as you please. All my happiness 



rt 

is over ! How have I been longing to hear him speak — to 
hear him call papa : I shan't know which papa he means 
now. 

Pris. I shall go into hysterics ! 

Bobby. And then a fond father's hope of seeing him 
breeched ! Now, he may live to be fifty before he's 
breech'd for any thing I care. 

Enter Margery. 

Margery. Here, here, I have something to tell you. 

Bobby. Don't trouble yourself, Margery, I have heard 
enough for one day, 

Margery. I guess what is between you, but it is all a 
mistake, and it is all in consequence of your keeping your 
marriage a secret. I come from Mrs. Welford's, where I 
have seen young Mr. Stanley, and old Mr. Stanley, and 
the old gentleman mistook Prissy for his nephew's wife, 

and so but here they come. 

(Margery, Priscitta, and Bobby, talk apart.) 

Enter 
Old Stanley, Young Stanley, and Mrs. Welford. 

O. Stan. Having seen you and conversed with you, 
Madam, I cannot but say, that I not only approve of my 
nephew's choice, but —Ah ! he is a lucky fellow that I am 
not a score of years younger, or he would find me a very 
troublesome rival. 

Bobby. I see it all, and I am a happy man again. But 
I say, Mister, I wish another time you'd be more careful, 
how 

O. Stan. I understand ; but you'll admit that you partly 
led me into the error, by announcing yourself to me as the 
godfather, instead 

Bobby. You are right — you are right — the old gentle- 
man is right — it all came of making a mystery of my mar- 
riage ; don't make signs at me, my dear- this is my own 
wife — that's my own child ; never mind what my wife may 
say to the contrary ; I'll not run the risk of having another 
such a fright. Allow me to present Mrs. Buckhorse to you. 
And to-morrow I'll introduce you to all my acquaintance. 

Y. Stan. And is that the woman you thought— Ha ! ha ! 
ha ! I don't wonder at your astonishment and anger. 

Bobby. Hallo ! Let me tell you, Mister, that though 
Mrs. B. does not set up for a beauty, yet 



Pris. Do you want to get into a quarrel ? 

Bobby. No ; but every man must make the best of his own 
wife, my dear. 

O. Stan* I am very sorry that I have been the muse* 
though unintentionally, of any misunderstanding between 
you; as for my nephew there 

Bobby, (who has been talking earnestly to his wife.) He 
shall be inoculated immediately. (Looks in at the cottage 
door, and returns on tip-toe.) He's asleep ! (Comes forward) 
Ladies and Gentlemen — If you could but see the sweet 
little fellow, I am sure that for his sake you would overlook 
all the faults of his father. 



THE END 



LONDON : 

tR Kim. SMITH, JOHNSOK's-fOUKr, FLEET-STREET. 



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